


The Varieties of Truth

by naboru



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Implied Slash, Implied Smut, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-04
Updated: 2012-01-04
Packaged: 2017-10-28 22:51:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/313045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naboru/pseuds/naboru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just because you don’t get what you’re aiming for, doesn’t mean that you don’t want what you do get.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Varieties of Truth

**Title:** The Varieties of Truth  
 **Warnings:** implied slash  
 **Characters:** Vortex, Breakdown, Dead End  
 **Rating:** T  
 **Summary:** Just because you don’t get what you’re aiming for, doesn’t mean that you don’t want what you do get.  
 **Disclaimer:** Sadly, I own nothing.  
 **Beta:** [ultharkitty](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ultharkitty)

 **Note:** Inspired by [this picture](http://fiskenyamamoto.deviantart.com/art/Invading-personal-space-150547553) by [FiskenYamamoto @ DA](http://fiskenyamamoto.deviantart.com/).

 

 **The Varieties of Truth**

Vortex stared.

He already had a few appealing ideas as to what to do with his prey, and his mind shot ahead of reality. But for the moment he forced himself just to _watch_ , and he couldn’t deny that he enjoyed being scary.

He sensed Breakdown’s tension from across the room and it made his talons twitchy. How easy would it be to decrease the space between them and lean towards the Stunticon. How wonderful would it be to _feel_ the tension, the quivering, and maybe he could even elicit a faint whimper out of that delicious vocaliser.

That vocaliser which so often produced these sweet words so full of anxious vibrations.

There they were in the common room late at night, just Vortex and Breakdown - he conveniently ignored the two Coneheads left of him - and it was enough just to stare, to enjoy the ache of his suppressed need.

It hadn’t taken long for Vortex to figure out when Breakdown was usually in the common room to grab his energon ratio, and that the Stunticon did that alone most of the time was a fact that thrilled him even more. It was too easy.

Breakdown shifted uncomfortable on his chair, briefly glancing at Vortex as though expecting something unpleasant to happen, then looked away at the smallest hint the ‘copter might notice - but he did, all the time.

Behind his mask, Vortex sneered, more salacious thoughts rushing through his processor at the innocent view. He was so impatient for his imaginings to become reality; the desire to touch the Stunticon, to give him pleasure and pain, and to feel him over an established connection. Breakdown - torn between bliss and fear, and Vortex would keep staring at him every single second to record those expressions which reflected his feelings so well.

He forced his talons to stop trembling, delighted by his own punishment as he waited. His optics followed Breakdown’s motions - nervous, uncertain - when he left the common room. It was the sixth day this particular game had taken place. Six days, where Breakdown couldn’t know what Vortex was up to, what to expect, what to fear, and for five of them nothing had happened. But Vortex was tired of waiting. He stood up; the Coneheads flinched at his abrupt movement, but he didn’t bother to acknowledge them.

The corridor was dimly lit, causing long shadows, the kind of scenery Vortex had thought he could only dream of. Breakdown walked fast; Vortex wasn’t sure whether he was aware of his follower, or if he simply feared the surroundings. He caught up with the Stunticon, and grabbed his arm.

“Hey…” he said cheerfully. “Why are you running so fast?” It was a question to which Vortex already knew the answer.

Breakdown turned around quickly and freed his arm, taking a step back, fists clenched.

“Vortex…!” He hissed.

A nearby light flickered, and became steady again.

“Yep, that’s my name.” His voice was still jovial, giving no hint of his intentions. “It surprises me that you know me. I can’t remember if we ever talked to each other before… what a pity.” He leaned towards the Stunticon, who almost jumped backwards.

“I… I… just know. Leave me alone!” A stammer, the voice mixed with slight static and those vibrations which Vortex was so eager to hear.

“Ah, c’mon. You’re _always_ alone.” The way he said it, it could have meant anything. “Sitting in the common room all by yourself…”

The ‘copter left the last sentence unfinished; the meaning of the words hung in the air, and a mix of various expressions flared over Breakdown’s face plates. Uncertainty, wariness, curiosity, dread, confusion, and Vortex loved them all.

Already knowing what to say, he activated his vocaliser, but was interrupted before the first tone had the chance to be articulated.

“Breakdown.” A bored, sophisticated voice intruded; Vortex could see the relief in the Stunticon’s optics.

Dead End joined the pair; obviously not caring that he might interfere with something.

“Motormaster is searching for you. You’re still not in your quarters…”

The name of the Stunticon leader that usually scared his team members seemed to be a welcome alternative. Breakdown’s expression brightened and he nodded hastily. He turned around and left apparently causing Dead End to be puzzled as he tilted his head, watching his team mate almost run.

Vortex suppressed a snarl. He hadn’t waited six days to have his efforts destroyed like that. He had no intention of going to his quarters alone tonight. Attentively, he eyed Dead End, and recapitulated the facts he knew about him. He was not as acceptable as Breakdown, especially as his faceplate and visor hid too much of his expression, but he was still better than leaving empty-handed.

When Dead End went to leave, he spoke straightforwardly.

“So, any plans tonight?”

“Pardon?”

“How about a team up? We combiners should… get to know each other better.” His tone was laden with mock innocence, but it appeared to have no effect on Dead End.

The Stunticon shook his head and turned his back to Vortex. He didn’t even bother to reply, which made the copter’s talons twitch displeased. Vortex wasn’t about to let that happen.

With a fast and fluid motion, he moved behind Dead End, grabbing one of his arms to prevent the Stunticon from leaving. He pressed his chest against Dead End’s back and left the other no chance to turn around. He felt a flicker of unease radiating from his prey.

Vortex had a reputation, they both knew, but despite that, the ‘copter sounded far too nice as he spoke near Dead End’s audio sensors.

“Why do you wanna leave know? Alone with your dark, depressing thoughts.” With his free hand he traced over the edge of a transformation seam on Dead End’s hip, earning a brief shudder. “Thinking about how worlds collide, bearing the burden of the universe…”

His hand wandered upwards to the waist, where Vortex expected to find the interface port.

“Wouldn’t it be nice _not_ to think? Just for the slightest of moments? To forget…”

He tickled another rim, earned another tremble, his voice more and more seductive with every word he spoke.

“…I can show you how it feels _not_ to feel…” The response to that was astonishingly intense. Another quiver, a tilt of his head, and Dead End leant into Vortex. His own arousal grew, made his blades shudder. He wanted to show the Stunticon the emptiness, the darkness he seemingly craved. He would show him his own experiences of what it was like to be imprisoned with only his own thoughts, without any chance to leave, to escape.

He would show Dead End what he promised him, but it wouldn’t be what he had expected.

And Vortex _needed_ to feel this realisation through a link, the terror and the dread.

“…I can show you…” He repeated his words. It was when he felt Dead End’s engine rev, that he knew, tonight he wouldn’t be alone.


End file.
